It's What We Do
by Fenix85647
Summary: A series of one-shots about life in the Maple World.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** So, since people thought my first story was a bit short, I decided to write some more. A lot more.

This is going to be a series of one-shots about the characters that bounce around in my mind.

So without further ado, the first in the series of **It's What We Do**.

Enjoy!

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><p><strong>It's What We Do<strong>

Aisint often wondered if Cygnus really did care about the Maple World.

Perhaps if she had taken a little more care, Edelstein wouldn't be in this mess in the first place. Maybe it wouldn't have made any difference, but the agonising thing was that it _might_ have done.

He always told Kaylee that there was no use dwelling on 'what could have been', and much more use thinking about 'what can be', but that one thought stuck in his mind.

"She could have saved us."

No matter how many monsters he killed, no matter how much he did for the Resistance, the thought echoed through his brain.

"She should have saved us."

It was a stupid thought, he knew, and certainly not the type of thought that should be bouncing around in his head during a vital mission. That sort of thing led to capture and inevitable torture, or worse, becoming Dr. Gelimer's latest test subject.

"Think about it later, the time to act is now."

This mission was very important for two reasons. First, it would give the Resistance much-needed information about the Black Wings' plans. Second, completing this mission would permit Aisint to learn more about the way of the Battle Mage, something he had been anxious about for the past 2 months.

Sneaking a glimpse over the wall surrounding the airport, he caught sight of his target, and gasped. There was no mistaking that face.

Schiller.

The man had nearly left him broken outside the Verne Mines, and if not for J's timely intervention, he and Vita would definitely have been torn to pieces from Gelimer's experimenting.

But this time...this time, Aisint was stronger. He was faster. He knew three different ways of breaking a man's arm. He was not going to lose this time. He grinned, pulling his staff out into his hands.

Revenge was going to be sweet. Even sweeter than cake.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Okay, I should have been more specific.

New entries in the series It's What We Do will be published as new chapters in this story. I hope that's clear

21 blue men: Aisint is pronounced Ice-int. Thanks for the advice, by the way!

This one might seem a bit short, but it's here and that's what matters.

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><p><strong>In The Hall of the Desert King<strong>

Deep in the deserts of Ariant, there is a pyramid built in devotion to the god Nett.

Many adventurers enter the tomb, some seeking riches, some seeking greater strength.

But this man entered this temple of chaos in search of something more. His memory.

The tanned stranger, his body heaving from effort, his face wrought with pain, brought himself upright, and let his wordless scream fill the silence.

Had he not suffered enough?

Did he not fight hard to regain his memories?

_Was he not a hero?_

As if in response, the coffins opened again, and the undead advanced upon him once more.

He shouldn't have trusted that damn bird. There was no hidden memory to be found here. The only thing that could be experienced here was torture, and he had spent enough time in torture to know what it felt like.

He hefted his polearm into the ready position.

His blue eyes gleamed with hidden power.

And Aran fought once more for his freedom.


	3. Chapter 3

**In Which Francis Has A Particularly Terrible Day**

Francis was not having a good day.

In fact, if he had to rate it on a scale of 1 to Monday, it would probably rank somewhere around "OH DEAR SWEET TRANSCEDENTS WHY ME".

Not that yesterday had been any better. Or the day before that.

Hell, the last few months had been positively _miserable_.

First some knight from Erev had burst in demanding something about a Seal Stone. The puppeteer had barely had time to ask why he was searching in Victoria when a seal stone would clearly be found in Aqua Road before he got an impromptu piercing courtesy of several throwing stars.

Then a few days later, after Le Tierre had actually told him what a Seal Stone was and why they were so important to the Black Wings' mission, that meathead Aran had burst in demanding it back.

Francis still had the bruises from that needlessly oversized polearm of his.

Then a few days after that, that magician with the dragon (what was his name, Aaron, Evans?) had roasted his best puppet into so much ash.

And then that strange lady who kept claiming to be an elf filled his second-best puppet full of arrows.

And now some caped cane-wielding crusader had barged in.

Francis was this close to breaking down into tears.

"What do you want?! Can't you see I'm trying to mope here?"

That seemed to rattle the mysterious stranger. Unfortunately, he quickly regained his composure.

"My sources tell me you know something about the Seal Stones."

OH TRANSCEDENTS NO NOT ANOTHER ONE.

"Go away! I don't know anything about any Seal Stones! I certainly don't know how they're related to the Black Mage-" NO STOP TALKING YOU IDIOT.

Too late. The glint in the stranger's eye was even brighter now.

"If you don't tell me, I'll have to resort to violence. And neither of us want that."

Francis was torn completely. If he spilled the beans, Le Tierre would definitely have his head this time. But if he didn't-

"Too late! Caning time!"

OH GOD PLEASE NO!

OW.

OW.

OW.

OH GOD THAT HURTS.

Francis was not having a good day. In fact, the last time he'd had a good day was the day he joined the Black Wings. It all seemed to have gone downhill from there.

Maybe he should just go back to Ludibrium and make toys for a living.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>Thanks to The NHK Ambassador for inspiring me to make this one-shot.

Poor Francis. Can't seem to catch a break. Maybe it's karma for that annoying skill-sealing he does.


End file.
